Florence not the place in Italy. A real person, an essentially good person but flawed nonetheless. I cannot say what prompted me to write today of Florence although I had been thinking about her for a while and I wanted to share with all the beauty of a soul who suffered more than words can say, and who dwelt each day in turmoil. You see Florence was a victim of domestic violence. And Florence came to believe that that was all she deserved. She did not know how, could not know how, was unable to show the scars, the tears, her fears, instead wearing these garments like a beautiful gown thrown carefully about her person. She paid attention to this outward show: the fashion show of the broken.

Others looked but could not see her pain for she wore those garments well. Tears like a brooch pinned to her heart, covering the sorrow. Fears, a multi-coloured scarf tossed about her neck so those finger-marks a cruel necklace, red and raw were concealed a good deal of the time, even when it was not cold. Florence’s smile beguiled even those of a perspicacious nature. Even they were fooled by that smile, a smile which said all is well, but belied the sadness coiled tightly, so unsightly for the world to see.

Misfortune was the realm in which she lived, a place which foiled her every plan to escape the brutality of domestic violence. Attacks were the nature of the cruel game played out in this particular domain. Florence played the game but the rules were skewed. Skewed in favour of her husband. Her husband who she had taken for better or for worse, but it would have been better had the worse been better, but the worse was worse and featured strongly in this union if you could call it that.

Personally, I would not call it a union, but for Florence her wedding vows were sacred and she had promised and promises were not made to be broken. But her bones could be. Surely she had not promised that?

Stephen D Jennings post “Violence is Never the Answer” has prompted me to reiterate and reinforce my view. My best Christmas present of all would be to know that everyone would subscribe to this. This and my last post are really depressing, I know, especially as this is a time when we’re filled with anticipation for good times over the festive season. But I hope everyone will see that my heart is in the right place. We need to keep sending this message until it is finally heard.

I have reblogged this post because it resonates with my “about” page. I am passionate about spreading the word that violence can never be the answer. It is the season of goodwill, and perhaps at this time more than any other time, we need to know that there many people who will not have a good time because they have a violent partner, parent etc. Rage and violence flares up (ironically) at this “peaceful” time. Sitting here on my pc is not going to solve the issue, but perhaps blogging about it will bring this to our awareness and if one violent person seeks help, I would feel my message is getting through. Forget about the present buying, the consumption of alcohol, the merrymaking for a moment and focus instead on the best gift of all – peace in our homes and our lives. Peace to all at this time and Season’s Greetings.

Like this:

Aren’t we all damaged in some way or another? We all have baggage. Not one of us can go through life completely unscathed. Sometimes we do not know what to do with our pain: we hide it, we disguise it, we pretend it didn’t happen. But no matter how much we try to leave it behind it follows us, manifesting itself in anger, depression, withdrawal. Let’s care for our damaged brothers and sisters in whatever way we can by recognising their pain and offering love and understanding.

Damaged People

“Damaged people are dangerous”*
Are they really, I reflect
Can this be so, how do you know?
On this bright morning in a country far away
Such sorrow permeates my soul
Does that make me dangerous to know?